Seven Degrees of Separation
by DobbyLovesSocks
Summary: The seven steps of Roxanne making a name for herself, and showing that she isn't like all the rest. /For Cassie /(slight unrequited cousincest)


For Cassie (our dancing days) as my second May fic for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza using the prompts: _magic_ _mirror_ and_ pianissimo (meaning very soft or softly.)_

Word count (without A/N): 2423

Cassie. Where to begin... Well, as you know, I used to be terrified of you, I really was. All I knew was your writing, which was so good, I was a bit scared to talk to you. Over the past few months, I've gotten to know you, and I admire your bravery and your writing skill and a lot of stuff about you. :P You have the best sense of humour, and you're always kind to everyone. I hope you enjoy this angsty little thing. :3 Apparently Roxy is not a happy girl in my head. Note: This is the longest oneshot I've ever written! Be honoured, Cassie! :P

Thanks to Liza (Forever Siriusly Sirius) for the title, and reading this over!

* * *

Her name is Roxanne Weasley, but she isn't quite sure what this means. Weasley means a lot of things, she thinks. Blood traitor. Red hair. Freckles. Clever. But she isn't any of these.

Her skin is light brown, with no trace of freckles, and her hair is curly and oh so very dark. Just like her mind, isn't it? Ideas twisting and turning constantly, so much darker than the words she speaks aloud. And if Weasleys are one thing, they're happy, aren't they?

Well, she thinks bitterly, maybe she isn't really a Weasley.

She certainly isn't clever. The only clever thing she's done is hiding her innermost thoughts and faking a smile for the past thirteen years, trying to keep the dark thoughts to herself.

And she definitely is _not_ a blood traitor. She isn't a Pureblood snob either, mind you, but she hasn't done anything really that goes against traditional Pureblood etiquette. She thinks she'd like to, someday, perhaps. Not because she wants to live up to her family name; quite the opposite, actually. She wants to show, just like all of her cousins do, she suspects, that she's _something._ That she's worth something more than the most common name in the Wizarding World.

When she had first learned to talk, her mummy taught her to say her name.

"Woxy Weezy. Woxanne Weezy." She repeated it for days on end, toddling around the house on her chubby little legs.

"Roxy, honey, if someone asks what your name is, what do you tell them?"

"Woxanne Weezy," she replied obediently. And for a while, she repeated that whenever she was asked her name.

By the time she was nine, she had dropped the "Weasley." That was the first step.

* * *

She glances into the bathroom mirror and makes a face. The Sorting Hat placed her in Gryffindor, but she isn't sure that this was the right choice. This is her third year at Hogwarts, and she still doesn't quite fit in with the other girls. She outlines her dark eyes in dark pencil and doesn't smile, much. She doesn't bother with much makeup or jewelery, and for the most part, she's very quiet. Her teachers are a bit concerned with her; the quiet girl who sits in the corner, constantly wearing a frown, but her grades are okay and there's nothing really to say.

Her Charms professor once tried to talk to her about it. He kept her after class to ask her.

"Roxanne, you seem very quiet, lately. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Professor. Everything's fine."

"You haven't been talking, and not only in class. We've observed that you often choose to sit alone during meals and free periods."

"Yessir. I like having time to myself," she had replied calmly, but inside she was humiliated and seething with anger. They were watching her, like she was some sort of project?

"Your cousins aren't like that," he pressed on. "They're all talkative as always, including your brother. It's just you."

"Well maybe I'm not like my cousins," she snapped back, stepping away. "Excuse me, sir, I have to get going, or I'll be late to my next class."

That was when she reached step two. People were finally starting to see that she wasn't like the rest of them.

* * *

When she gets to fifth year, romance seems to become much more evident in the students' lives... And Roxanne isn't sure she likes it. All of the couples snogging in the Common Rooms make her uncomfortable, something she can't relate to. So when a Ravenclaw named Evan Corner asks her to go to Hogsmeade, she replies with an uncomfortable yes, because she may not want to be like all the others, but there are some places you just don't want to stand out.

They drink butterbeers together in the Three Broomsticks, neither one of them saying much.

They spend time together over the next few weeks; not because they fit together, but because they don't fit with anyone else. This how she sees it, anyway. But Evan seems to be getting more attached as the weeks go on, and one day, as they're sitting under a shady tree during a free period, he leans over and kisses her. She doesn't like it. She knows that for sure; it just feels _wrong._ But when a boy kisses a girl, she doesn't pull away. So she scrunches up her nose and kisses him back, awaiting the moment it's over.

Step three: this isn't just something _different._ She's beginning to think something's _wrong._

* * *

"What's wrong, Roxy?" Evan asks one day. It makes her uncomfortable; no one outside of her family calls her this, and it feels wrong coming from his lips. She shakes her head slightly. "Really, Roxy, I want to help you! Why are you always so quiet?"

"No reason," she insists. "Please don't get into my business.'"

"But I want to _help_!"

"Don't," she tells him. "I'm just another story about a girl who needs saving from a castle she never wanted built. Do you really want to help that?"

And there lies step four. Now everyone knows that she's nothing like the rest of them, but she's the most cliched girl they've got. People are finally beginning to understand that Roxanne Weasley is a mystery that no one can solve.

* * *

She and Evan are beginning to fall apart, and she isn't sure how to feel. She's relieved to be rid of him (after all, she never really liked him), but she's slightly afraid that if she breaks up with her _boyfriend,_ people will figure out why. And soon enough, they do.

"Hey, Roxanne, there's this really cute guy..."

"I think that Hufflepuff boy likes you..."

"Did you see that really hot bloke..."

She always stops listening at the same place. Slowly, people begin to piece it together... that, and the fact that her eyes always linger a bit too long where they aren't supposed to. Her dorm mates don't say anything directly to her, but she sees the disgust in their eyes, the way they always turn away when they're getting changed, now. And she hates it.

She stares into the mirror one night, long after everyone else has gone to bed, and looks at herself. She can put on all the makeup she wants, make her hair as fancy and complicated as can be, but she can never turn herself into anyone else. As she looks into the mirror, she wishes it could solve all her problems, instead of just reflecting the ones she _can_ fix. But just because it's a mirror in a school of magic doesn't make it a magic mirror; it can show all the beauty there is, but it can't create more. It can't turn Roxanne into the girl she wants to be.

So word gets out (like it always does at Hogwarts) and she clenches her jaw and holds her head high as she endures cry after cry of words that all mean the same thing.

That she's an unnatural freak.

Really, though, she doesn't mind all that much. She's Roxanne; she can put up with their petty insults. And after all, isn't this step five? She's finally made a name for herself. Maybe "gay" wasn't the name she wanted for herself, but people finally realise that _this girl is different._ And really, that's all that matters.

* * *

Her family takes it with stride. Her cousins shrug and go on as if nothing ever happened (except James' gaze lingers on her just a bit too long), and all of her many aunts and uncles respond the same way.

"Love is love, Roxy," her mother had said, after a moment of initial shock. Her father's lips were slightly pursed, but he nodded all the same, and whispered _I love you_ into her hair.

By now she's back at Hogwarts, and anyone who didn't know about Roxanne before has found out. But the symphony of gossip has quieted down to pianissimo, and before she knows it, it's faded away completely. But she's _Roxanne,_ she isn't like the rest of them. So of course she has to push it all just a little bit further.

This is when develops her first real crush. She's small and feisty with auburn hair that ripples down her back, and Roxanne loves to simply watch her. To count the freckles splashed across her cheeks, to know that she'll never love her back. She loves that no matter what, her love will always be unrequited, because what kind of girl falls in love with her _cousin?_ She loves knowing that she can fall in love from afar and keep it to herself, no one else has to know.

But as Lily goes through boy after boy after boy (she's only a bloody _fourth_ year), Roxanne can't just watch.

"Why do you bother with so many _boys,_ Lily?" she asks, trying to sound like nothing more than a concerned cousin.

"I'm not you, Roxy," she replies, grinning. "I'm not going to bother with so many _girls,_ if that's what you're asking." Roxanne sighs, rolling her eyes.

"That's not what I mean, Lily. I mean, why do you date so many guys you know you're just going to dump in a week? Do you even _like _any of these guys?" Lily shrugs, waving it off.

"Do any of _them _actually care about me? Not really. And I'm fine with that, Roxy. I'm barely fifteen; I have plenty of time to grow up and settle down. I'm just goofing around, now, okay?" Normally, Roxanne would have stopped by now, but she pushes on.

"Look, Lils, there are people who really _do_ care about you, you know. I just don't want to see you wasting your time with all these brainless arseholes when there are people who actually give a fuck about _you,_ not just how well you snog."

Lily stares at her for a moment.

"Whatever, Roxanne," she says, standing up suddenly, "I don't need another mother, okay? I'm glad you're trying to help and all- really, I am- it's just... I'm fine, okay?" She gives her cousin a small smile before walking away.

Roxanne can't help but wish she had gotten the fairytale ending where she kisses Lily and they live happily ever after. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

So she waits for months until one day in late April when she's just feeling _daring_ and she's hating the world and she can't take it any longer and she follows her instincts. Lily's sitting alone under a tree, and Roxanne walks up to her, looking angry, and suddenly sits down on the floor and kisses her. A real, genuine kiss. After no more than a second, Lily pulls away, looking repulsed.

"ROXANNE!" she cries, standing up. "I mean, I know you're- but _me,_ I'm your fucking cousin, Roxy! Just because we don't care that you're lesbian doesn't mean that we won't care about... about _incest, _or whatever the hell that was! That's just _gross!_" She spins on her heel and races across the grounds, wiping at her lips with her sleeve.

_Well,_ she thinks bitterly,_ I'm certainly making myself into someone different._ Step six: Roxanne Weasley, the creep who fell in love with her cousin.

* * *

The next year is her last, and she's thrilled to be at the top of the school. Lily stays away from her for the most part, but when she really needs to, Roxanne can earn herself a smile or a few words in the corridors between classes. Lily admitted that she didn't react as well as she could have, and Roxanne took the apology gratefully.

But as the year wears on, knowledge of that one move begins to spread around the school.

"What's your problem, you _freak?"_

"Being gay isn't that weird. Being gay with your _cousin_ is just creepy."

Most of all, though, she hears silence. Because no one really wants to spend time with _her_; why would they? Her grades actually get better, so her teachers think that she is, too. But really, it's the opposite. School has become something of an obsession, to her. She spends every spare moment studying and memorizing because if she doesn't, she knows they'll be spent crying... or worse. So she throws herself into her schoolwork, and only cries in the dead of night.

But the year is over quickly, and she's stuck at home, and somehow, _they_ all found out, too. Her mum gives her a serious talking-to, and her dad just looks disappointed.

Little Roxy's all grown up. But she doesn't want to be. She doesn't want to have to get a job and find a _wife_ and earn money and buy a house, and she doesn't even try. Bit by bit, she's falling apart, and she doesn't even try to piece herself back together. She finds herself downing mug after mug of firewhiskey when her parents aren't around, and flying on her broomstick when they are. The soaring feeling in her chest helps her forget everything that's going on... Or focus on it more. She isn't quite sure which, but she does it anyway. She flies and flies until she's about to collapse, before landing and doing just that.

One day, though, she tapes a piece of paper to her broom when she lifts off, and she goes higher and higher and higher until her house is just a speck.

She's not going anywhere in life. After all, if she doesn't _want_ to go anywhere, she won't. And the only place she wants to go right now is up, up, up. And then all the way back down.

So she does.

She lets go of her hold on the broomstick and lets it slide out of her grip and she's _fallingfallingfalling_ until there's nowhere left to fall. She slams into the ground, and her broom collapses with her, and that's how her story ends.

Her parents run outside upon hearing the collision, and her mother screams a scream that no mother should ever have to, and her father falls to his knees. Only the next day do they find the paper on her broomstick. It contains just eight words.

_I'm not a Weasley. I never was. -Roxanne_

Her gravestone honours the note; it reads "Roxanne" and nothing more.

That was the seventh and final step in making a name for herself, and that's how she was forever known.

_Roxanne, the one that fell apart. And no one was there to put her back together._


End file.
